


Queer

by deux_lunes



Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Dom!Paul, Dom/sub, Humiliation, M/M, Oral Sex, Period-Typical Homophobia, Sub!John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-10-19 10:25:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20655677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deux_lunes/pseuds/deux_lunes
Summary: Paul gives John what he desires.Originally posted on Livejournal.





	Queer

“Did you see how many girls were outside the venue tonight?” Paul fumed as he and John entered their shared hotel room. “Not a dog among them! But did Brian let us have one? No, ‘straight back to the hotel, boys, big day tomorrow!’ Fucking Brian!”

John snickered at his friend’s irritation. “Frustrated, Paul?”

His remark was met with a death glare as Paul removed his shirt and tie, proceeding to flop onto the hotel bed. “I’m twenty-three years old. I should be able to get a girl when I want a fucking girl!”

John stood next to his own bed, surreptitiously gazing over his younger friend’s obviously pent-up body. “We’re all horny, Macca. Just try to deal with it… We don’t have a show scheduled for the day after tomorrow. You could get three girls if you wanted.”

Paul grinned. “Don’t give me any ideas. You know what your ideas do to me.”

Ignoring all voices in his head screaming that this was the worst idea he had ever had, John said, “You can wank off, I don’t mind.”

Something in John’s voice gave him away. Paul glanced at him sharply. “Why?”

“I just said I don’t mind if you do! I’m not asking you to.” John’s defensive armor raised itself quickly, but the damage had been done.

Paul sat up, his eyes boring into John. “I bet you do want me to wank, don’t you?” he asked quietly, dangerously. “Don’t think I’ve never noticed you watching me, John. I tried to ignore it, but it’s gone on too long.”

Panic rose in John’s chest, squeezing his heart painfully. “Macca, I really don’t know—”

“Of course you fucking know, John,” Paul spat. “You’re a fucking queer. Bad as Brian. Worse than him because at least he’s open about it! You, you try to pretend to be straight but inside, you’re as sick and disgusting as he is.”

“That isn’t true,” John croaked, his mouth dry as sandpaper.

“It’s completely true.” To John’s shock, Paul reached down and unzipped his trousers to pull out his half-erect member. He began to touch himself, staring John straight in the eyes. 

“Do you _enjoy_ watching me jerk off, John?” Paul whispered, stroking himself slowly and deliberately.

John swallowed, eyes darting from Paul’s cock to his teasing face to the floor below him. “…Yes, Paul.”

The younger man laughed, pulling his hand away and letting his friend have a full view of his hard prick. “You are a queer, huh, Johnny?” His blush was more than an answer. “So it’s not just me you like seeing wank. It’d be any man?”

John nodded, obviously ashamed and very obviously aroused.

“Are you getting off on this? From my cock? From me knowing what a faggot you are?”

“Paul—”

“Shut up.” Paul stood, tucking himself back in his pants and reaching out to grab John’s own package. “Poofter. So hard from watching your best male friend touching himself. Do you know how disgusting that is, Johnny?”

John’s face was completely flushed, his breathing was hard and he trembled beneath Paul’s grasp. “I know it is, I know.”

“If you know how disgusting it is, then why do you do it?”

His eyes closed, trying to block the shame of his answer. “I can’t stop it. I’ve tried, I can’t. I just… I just want all of it too badly.”

The grip on John’s cock and balls grew tighter. “You mean you want to _touch_ other men’s cocks? It isn’t enough to just look at them, you want to touch them?” Without warning, Paul retracted his hand, letting John whimper. “Or do you want more. Do you want to suck them, fuck them? Or maybe… You want them to fuck you. Is that right, poofter?”

John opened his eyes, already brimming with tears. “Paul, please, please don’t make me—” 

Paul’s arm shot out to John’s shoulder, pushing his friend down on the bed easily. “Don’t make this harder on yourself, Johnny. You want to be fucked like the little faggot you are?” 

“Yes, Paulie.” John sniffled, humiliated by his mate’s language and condemnation, but more so from how correct he was. “I love being fucked, I love sucking dick, I love all of it.”

“I always knew you were cock-sucking queer,” Paul laughed breathlessly, pulling out his prick. “The way you looked at me, how you’d touch me. Creaming yourself like a girl when I gave you so much as a smile. Do you want this, John? Want to suck my dick?”

“Yes!” John begged, raising his wet eyes to meet Paul’s, desperate and on the verge of letting all his tears spill. “God, Paul, please let me blow you. I’ve dreamed about it for so long.”

The younger man grabbed his friend’s hair hard, guiding his mouth onto his cock. John moaned around the member, automatically sliding his mouth up and down and sucking needfully. Paul groaned and ran his fingers through the silky hair beneath him.

“You’re not just a queer, John, you’re a slut too. God, I wish everyone could see you like this. I can just see the headlines: ‘Ladies Man Lennon Found Sucking Cock.’ Can you imagine what everyone would say about you? You’re so fucking shameful, John.”

The guitarist pulled his head back from Paul to look up at him. “Please don’t tell anyone,” he pleaded, “They’d eat me alive.”

Without warning, Paul’s strong hand flew across John’s cheek, making him cry out. “You’re in no position to be bargaining, faggot,” he hissed. “Get back on my dick, I’ll be the one to decide your fate.” John sobbed, but obeyed, sucking and licking eagerly.

“Good slut,” Paul teased, wiping John’s tears off his face, pleasure coursing through him from the sensations around his manhood and the sight of John Lennon so completely dominated. “You’d do anything for cock, wouldn’t you? I wouldn’t even have to resort to blackmail to get you on your knees. You’re good at it too… Bet you’ve had a lot of practice.” 

John tried to ignore the man above him, but it was a lost cause. Every demeaning word out of Paul’s mouth only made him harder and needier. He let himself rub his aroused prick through his pants to relieve some of the tension, hoping Paul wouldn’t notice.

“What’s this? Sucking me has gotten you _this_ randy, John?” He pulled his head back, forcing John’s humiliated face to look at him. “You are unbelievable. I bet you want me to touch you, huh?”

“Paul, I’d do anything,” John panted, unable to break away from Paul’s grip and gaze. “Please, make me come. Please?”

The bassist was quiet for a moment, then sat down on the bed across from John, staring at him intently. “Take your clothes off.”

John scrambled to his feet, eager to please his dominator. Soon, he stood naked before him, and Paul sniggered. “Such a queer body… I can just tell by looking at you that you love taking a big cock up your arse. You love seeing what a real man’s body looks like, don’t you, Johnny.” He motioned to his bare chest and hard cock. “You’re nowhere near a real man,” he whispered. “Just a pathetic little queer. Get on your hands and knees, like a dog.”

John obeyed, too ashamed to argue.

“Now. Kiss my feet.”

“Paul…”

“If you want me to even consider fucking you, faggot, you’ll kiss my goddamn feet. Fucking worship them, slut.”

Slowly, John bent downward to press his lips gently against his younger friend’s feet, kissing every square inch and giving special attention to his toes. The more Paul humiliated him, the more humiliation John needed. After nearly ten minutes of “worshipping” Paul’s feet, John looked up nervously at the man who had such complete control over him. 

“You want me to fuck you now, don’t you?”

“Please, Paulie, I won’t tell anyone, I’ll do anything for you—”

John cut himself off when Paul stood and slipped off his trousers. “On the bed, hands and knees.” The guitarist clambered onto the bed, positioning himself in the way Paul ordered. Paul stood for a while, admiring the sight in front of him. “If only I had my camera…” he mused. John blushed, well aware of the shameful spectacle he had made of himself. Teasingly, the younger man ran his fingers over John’s body, paying careful attention to his peaked nipples, laughing when he shivered. Finally, his cheeks were pulled apart, and his puckered hole was on display for anyone to see.

“I bet even a whore like you needs lubrication,” Paul murmured. “Where do you keep it? I know you must have some around.”

“In my suitcase, Paulie.” John kept himself in position as the younger man rummaged through his belongings, struggling to keep from touching himself. Paul’s lubricated fingers soon found their way to the tight asshole, making John moan and rock back onto them.

“You’re lucky you have me, John,” he teased. “Anyone else would have laughed you out of the business by now, but not me. I’m nice enough to give you what you want. Aren’t you grateful?”

“Yes, fuck yes, Paul,” John panted. “I’m so lucky, thank you, thank you.”

“Any self-respecting straight man would be beyond disgusted by now,” Paul said, positioning himself behind John. “But I’m such a good friend to give this to you. I bet your little arse is so tight…” With that, he slid into his friend, both of them moaning loudly.

“God, fucking _queer_,” Paul growled, grabbing John’s hair hard as he thrust in and out of him. John howled in pain and desire, rocking back to meet Paul’s thrusts as best he could. “You should be disgusted with yourself. An appalling faggot like you should never have become so successful. You probably sucked all the bigwigs’ cocks, and knowing you, you would have enjoyed every second of it.”

“Paul, touch me!” John begged, his hard cock dripping with arousal.

“I’m not placing one finger on that dirty little prick,” Paul hissed. “I’ll allow you to touch yourself, but if you ever ask me to touch you there again, I’ll make sure your slutty secrets are on every tabloid cover in the country.” John didn’t argue, only began to wank himself furiously.

“Come on, Johnny, spread your legs wide for me,” Paul cooed with an edge of malice. “Squeeze that arsehole tight. You want to make Paulie come nice and hard, don’t you? You’d do anything to make me happy.”

“Yes, Paul, anything!” the guitarist wailed, moaning louder as his lover’s thrusts came harder and faster.

“You want my jizz inside you? Bet you’d love that.” Paul gripped his hips tightly, pounding into John as hard as he could, not caring that his friend would have bruises in the morning. “Little faggot, you’re going to make me come. Beg me to come.”

“Paul, please come inside me,” John pleaded, his voice shaking and cracking. “Oh God, fill me up with your come. I need it more than anything, I need you, just please, Paul!”

Paul groaned, feeling his orgasm approaching rapidly. “Tell me what you are, John, tell me what you fucking are!”

“A fucking queer!” John screamed, and with that, Paul’s orgasm ripped through him, filling his lover’s passage with his fluid. John writhed beneath him, whimpering and moaning Paul’s name as he spilled his seed over his own hand. Panting, Paul let them rest there for several moments, simply soaking in the absolute sin they had created. Finally, he withdrew his cock from John, smiling when he saw his semen dripping from his ass.

The bassist settled on the far side of the bed, watching as John collapsed onto his stomach. With a shaking hand, he reached out and stroked his lover’s hair. “How was that, Johnny?” 

John raised his head to smile at his friend coyly. “That was… fucking perfect, Macca.”

Paul laughed as John struggled to pull himself into his arms. “I got worried when I hit you…”

“I told ya that you could,” John snorted. “Besides, I never used the safe word, so it was fine.”

“Believe me, I expected to hear ‘walrus’ the entire time you were kissing my feet.”

John raised his head slightly to meet Paul’s caring but somewhat concerned face. “Thanks for doing that for me, love. You just… You don’t know how hot it got me.”

“I think I have a fair indication, John.” He smiled and ruffled the older man’s hair. “I’m a little surprised I had that in me.”

“Maybe you were projecting a little?” John grinned and winked, and Paul laughed.

“We’re both fucking queer, there’s nothing for me to project!”

John lifted himself up to kiss his lover softly. “Love you, Paul.”

“I love you too, Johnny.” 

They fell into silence, only listening to each other’s breaths and heartbeats, until it was finally broken with: “Paulie? What do you think about bondage?”

THE END


End file.
